Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower
by monica.prelooker
Summary: The TPU needs help on the field to prevent a possible bio attack, so Hotch and Rossi join the ride. This is Gillian and her team rolling their way, and Hotch will fight the fair battle to stick to his canon, working with the punks-on-a-picnic, as he calls them, to help solve the case.
1. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 1-7

_"__Quiet hours, you have always been_

_My wildflower, showing up_

_Whenever beauty's lost its way_

_Your heart must break."_

Gillian bends over the desk, resting all of her weight on her elbows as Hotch roughly thrusts into her, pushing a suffocated moan through her tightly pressed lips. His hips slam against her, once, twice, and yet again, a husky growl escaping his clenched teeth. Then one of his hands releases his iron grip on her hips and shows beneath her arm from behind.

She shuts her eyes as he grabs her breast, still thrusting inside of her.

He's upset. It's been one of those cases. That's why she waited till the team was gone and then hurried up to the sixth floor and his office.

Hotch hardly wasted any time to close the blinds and the door before yanking her to him and kiss her, already rolling up her skirt.

She knows it's going to be rough, for him to vent out. Nothing like his gentle kisses when she cuddles in his arms at night, nothing like his soft warm touch brushing her awake in the morning, nothing like his sweet lovemaking as she gets lost in those piercing green eyes, throwing her legs around his waist to keep him close, melting away when he smiles down at her.

Now he leans forward, pacing down and thrusting deeper, and she hears his heavy breathing by her ear. His teeth brush her neck, and his hand no longer squeezes her breast, but slips beneath her blouse to cup it.

His other hand also leaves her hip to slide to her thigh, and Gillian holds back her breath at what's coming. He knows her so damn well. And now he's moving in that slow way, really feeling it, feeling her, as his hand slides further between her legs.

Gosh, he does know her. His scent wrapping around her, his warm heavy breath against her skin, his hips pressing against her butt. And his hand cupping her breast in slow, delicious circles, his fingers beneath her skirt. Right now he's doing all the right things in all the right ways.

AC/DC.

SHIT!

Gillian's eyes are suddenly wide open and blankly staring up at the ceiling, heavily breathing in her bed.

Alone.


	2. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 2-7

She reaches out to pick the call before Back in Black wakes Connor up. She listens to Tanya's quick report closing her eyes and focusing in breathing deep and slow.

"Call the team," she huskily says, and hangs up.

shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit

She jumps out of bed straight into the shower and lingers there, letting out one shaky sigh after the other.

She has to seriously consider calling back Taylor. She's tried to stay away from him, since she's grown fond of him and it doesn't feel right. But.

The worst of this recurrent dreams, Gillian thinks lowering her head under the rain, so the water gushes through her hair and down her face, the worst is that they're like pieces of a larger picture.

It's not only wild sex on the desk or whatever her stupid subconscious chooses to torture her with. Her dreams are all connected. And in her dreams she has this awful memory of the other dreams. Like a thread of real memories.

She's had dinner with Hotch, Jack and Connor before going to sleep with Hotch, both of them too tired for anything else than cuddling with a quick kiss and fall sound asleep. They've been out for a drink and had sex in his car. And on the couch in his family-room. And in his shower.

He's dropped by some imaginary office of hers in Quantico with wildflowers and a kiss. She's left him some stupid stick note with three words and a heart on his desk when he's about to come home from a case. They've discussed profiles doing the dishes, while Connor and Jack play PS a few steps away.

They've taken heed of a little while alone in the morning, when Connor takes Jack to school before heading for his own classes in Georgetown, and it means laying back in the couch together and watch the morning news on the TV. She's been to every match of at least three complete soccer leagues and countless trainings at the park.

In her dreams, they've been living together for ages. So happy. So perfect. So real.

Only all of it exists only in her imagination.

None of it is real.

And it will never be.


	3. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 3-7

Garcia is about to begin the morning briefing. It's not an urgent case, but they're taking on it, mostly because none of them wants to even glance at paperwork. Idaho, two bodies found, preliminary autopsies report one's been killed two years ago, the other one last year, so there may be a third body about to pop up.

Then Cruz knocks and comes in, handing Hotch a folder as he says:

"Good morning everybody. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need your help in a case from another area."

The team looks up at him and Cruz goes on: "I'm sending the TPU to Tampa, Florida, was we speak, to look into what could be a bio attack, and Gillian requested your assistance." He turns to Hotch to add: "There's no need for the whole team to go, so pick two agents to join the TPU. They're landing in thirty minutes to pick them up."

He quickly nods at the others and leaves in a hurry.

The team turns to Hotch, who's very seriously studying the case file.

His eyes can't make a single word before them. He's just taking in that within thirty minutes Gillian will be landing here in DC, and she needs help with a case. It's been three months since they last met in Boston, and it's the first time he's ever heard from her since. He knows Reid and Morgan are the obvious choice, but he'll be damned if he's sending them to spend a few days with Gillian while he stays back and away in DC.

If he goes, she will have no choice but to talk to him, at least about the case. And maybe he can manage it to make it through minefields and barbed-wired trenches and heavy artillery and actually reach her.

So he looks up and says: "Dave and I are going. Reid, I want you standing by in case we need to consult you. Morgan, JJ, enjoy your paperwork day."

He strides out of the room as his canon states, while Rossi stands up in no hurry.

"So to Tampa with Reg it is…," he says, amused.

"Send LT hugs and kisses," Garcia tells him.

"And wishes of wild sex on the table," Reid adds, proving how much of a bad influence Gillian's been on him.

"That too, lots," Garcia agrees.

Morgan looks up at him very serious. "Hey, Rossi, keep an eye on Hotch around Reg, would you."

Jennifer pats his arm, taking offense. "Morgan! Have a little faith on him!"

"Don't worry, _cupcakes_. I got this," Rossi smiles, leaving.

Cruz comes striding down the hallway, finds Hotch with his go-bag waiting for the elevator and pauses, frowning.

"You're going?"

"Yes, Rossi and I." Hotch knows what this is about, so he offers: "Do you want me to send somebody else?"

"No, no, you're Unit Chief, it's your call. But are you ok with going only to consult?"

Hotch knows that now he's supposed to show a questioning frown, so he does.

Cruz shrugs. "I mean, it's the TPU's case, and it's Gillian's team… her way to lead is different from yours."

Careful not to seem too eager, Hotch calmly replies: "I know, I've worked with Gillian's team before. You sure you don't want me to send somebody else?" —then I'll make sure a serial killer shows up ten minutes away from Tampa within two hours and I'll go there anyway.

"No, no. Just… don't suspend her this time, ok?" the booth opens. "Go now, good luck."

Hotch nods scoffing as he walks into the booth.


	4. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 4-7

The TPU's jet is basically the same as the BAU's. Only there's soft rock coming out of the speakers, there's a PS plugged to one of the screens, and everybody on board is wearing jeans or shorts, sneakers and T-shirts or tank tops, foreseeing Tampa + August = hot —and let's pray for no tropical storms coming down on us.

While they're waiting for Reid and Morgan —because nobody has the tiniest doubt it's going to be them, Tanya and Kurt are beating each other senseless on the PS, Aldana is catching up with her favorite show on her computer, earphones on, and Fred is kicking Hank's and Gillian's ass at poker.

All of a sudden Hank looks up and grins, both his arms up high: "My pasta sensei!"

The rest of them look up as well and they see Rossi coming in. Aldana, Tanya and Kurt hit pause and the air is filled with cheering for Rossi, as Gillian hurries to welcome him.

"Hey, kiddos! It's been a while!" Rossi waves at them with a best-seller smile before giving Gillian a quick hug.

Then all of the laughs and exclamations trail abruptly off.

Gillian looks past Rossi and forces herself not to panic. Hotch flashes an ironic smile at the sudden silence.

"C'mon, lads! Be civil!" Gillian scoffs.

The TPU team waves at Hotch as Gillian goes to shake his hand, really wishing he doesn't notice she's rubbing her hands against her jeans, to dry the sudden sweat off them.

"Agent Hotchner," she says, out of an etiquette book.

"Agent Gillian," he says, nodding with a quick smile.

Rossi joins them and she says: "Welcome to the school bus, gents. Make yourselves at home, I'll be right back."

Hotch and Rossi sit down as the team resumes their activities and Gillian heads to the cockpit. She's really tempted to jump off the jet, her heart ruthlessly hammering in her chest, and she lingers talking to the pilots a couple of minutes longer than necessary, in order to try to get at least one inch of her cool back.

What the hell is Hotch doing here? It had to be Reid and Morgan! She didn't say so to Cruz, because Cruz would've say so to Hotch, and he would feel like she was trying to go over his head and show up only to remind her who's the boss.

And now he's here anyway. Shit. When she's hardly locking up in some dark corner of her mind the last threads of her dream. When she's so not ready to face him again.

She takes a deep, deep breath and lets his professional self kick in.

This is work.

Business.

So on with it.

Bring it on.

I can take it.

And this time you're in my turf. So you're gonna have to roll my way.

That's not business.

Ok. On to it.

Let's do this.

Fast and right. That's our motto. The TPU motto. We do it fast, we do it right.

C'mon. Let's roll.

Yeah.


	5. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 5-7

She goes back to sit by Rossi as the jet rolls to the runaway, and she softly pats his leg. She's happy to have him here, even knowing it's only a very dirty trick from Hotch: unlike Morgan or Reid, who would openly take her side if things get nasty again between the two of them, Rossi will stay neutral and lovingly kick both their asses back in line.

Whatever. It's show time. So she turns to Hotch as to win the Best Mood of the Year award and says to Hotch: "If you don't mind the racket, I like them relaxed before going into the field."

He gently nods. "Gillian: your team, your rules."

Oh, well, you're wrapped in silk today, dear. If I could only unwrap you…

Back to the game, Gillian, _please_.

As soon as the jet softly takes off, she says: "Okay, let us fill you guys in." She leans over her seat and calls: "Hank! Kurt!"

Kurt and Hank join them, and Kurt gives Rossi and Hotch a folder each, so they can see the files they have this far. He sits on the arm of a seat while Hank sits on the floor, folded legs.

It really looks like a school bus, Hotch can't help to notice, all of them going on a field day for a picnic, not a hint of professionalism, taking it all in their team leader's carefree smartass way. And he can't also help to notice how forms are already building up on him as he was aware they would.

Then they start briefing them and their flashy swimming trunks or their sneakers don't matter anymore, because they're experts in their field seriously talking business, demanding all of their attention.

Gillian starts: "Along the last two weeks, ten people were admitted in different ERs in Tampa with meningitis symptoms, but all the tests came negative for that disease. And after many tires, they were able to identify the virus causing it, and that's why we're going over."

"You're thinking a neuro agent?" Rossi asks.

It's Hank, half sprawled on the floor, who answers: "The virus found in the patients is a wild string of the Borna Virus. The original Borna is very rare to find in humans, cos most of the times it goes undetected, since the disorders it causes are usually taken as plain psychiatric issues. So it's mostly reported in animals such as horses and sheep, which suddenly suffer violent behavior shifts."

"That's why it's so rare that ten people in as many days get infected in the same city," Gillian goes on. "Presenting a prognosis severe enough to look like meningitis. When all the patients came positive for BVD —Borna Virus Disease, the hospitals alerted the authorities."

Hotch is already oblivious to forms, his head full into the case. "Any idea how they were infected?" he asks.

"The Borna virus is still a blank field for medicine," Hank replies. "But they believe that it has to be inhaled. Anyway, we have no idea how this wild string works. It's not airborne, or we'd have many more cases. I'm expecting de CDC report later today, to see what we're dealing with."

Kurt steps in. "I've been tracking the patients looking for overlaps and found two groups. Six of them were at the aquarium last weekend, and the other four went to the same theatre along the last week. But I didn't have time to dig deeper."

As Rossi and Hotch nod, taking in all the information, Gillian smiles at her agents. "Thank you, lads, I'll take it from here. You go enjoy the flight."

"Dave, I have something for you," Kurt says, standing up.

Rossi smiles up at him. "Be ready to be miserably defeated in a while."

Kurt and Hank go back to their seats as Hotch looks up at Gillian. She's really strictly business today, and it's not a surprise. He expected her five arms' length distance. And after this first glance at the case, it's grave enough not to stray a single step from it.

Then he realizes it's going to be the very first time he gets to really see her in her own turf, playing by her own rules, with her own agents —this bunch of punks-on-a-picnic, and their own ways. He can already tell it's going to be a very interesting ride, full of contrast with all he's known about her. And he's glad he's here to see it.

But she still didn't say why she asked for help from his team.


	6. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 6-7

"So what do you think about this, Gillian?" he asks.

She grimaces. "Text books say they're working on a neuro agent and testing the effects and the best delivery system in public places…"

"But…," Rossi anticipates.

"Something's off. I can't tell you guys what, yet, but I'm thinking a poisoner rather than terrorism. That's why a asked Cruz if I could consult this with you."

"Why?" Hotch asks, truly interested, and truly glad to meet again Gillian's surprising instincts. He's seen them working in San Diego, on the rapist case, now he's expecting to see them in action on her field.

"First of all, they modified the virus and didn't make it airborne? It's not a massive strike if you have to wait for people to happen to sniff your poisoned rose."

"But it can be not about a massive strike, but something more subtle," he notes.

"If the virus spreads, and the news spread, twenty patients can cause panic in thousands," Rossi argues.

Oh, how she loves this. She's been missing it so much. This sort of harmonic brain storm they always work with.

"Yeah, I know," she says. "I can't explain it, but I smell a female serial on a revenge mission."

"Ok, I didn't see that coming," Rossi admits, amused. "Where do you come up with those ideas?"

"I read your books and the BAU manuals?"

"You should try something lighter to sleep, kiddo!"

They chuckle and she turns to Hotch. Not the man from her thousand dreams, but the brains behind the laser scan in his eyes. The professional she's always respected.

"What d'you think? I hooked you guys up for nothing…"

"No, we can help whether it's a serial killer or terrorists. We should wait for the tests, and see how the patients got infected. And see if more cases come up."

"You think there will be an escalation…"

"That's what we should expect," Rossi nods. "What about victimology?"

"I still didn't have a chance to take a good look at it. The case came in three hours ago and here we are, running like firefighters." —right out from a wet dream about the man now sitting in front of me.

"Then let's wait to take a look at that as well," says the man sitting in front of her.

So Gillian gives in to her urge to run away and stands up with a wanna-be business smile. "I need coffee, can I offer you guys anything?"

Both of them politely decline and Gillian dematerializes to go hide at the other end of the jet, back turned to them, waiting for the coffee machine to warm the coffee up.


	7. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Teaser 7-7

Rossi turns to Hotch, who's going through the file.

"I didn't think you two had so many things left unsaid after Boston," he very gently shoots without any warning.

Hotch looks up, taken aback, Rossi gifts him with an ironic smirk.

"Why else would you be here, knowing you're going to choke on formal objections at every step?"

Dear Dave: it's just too early and too soon to start profiling me dead-on like this. So I'm sorry, I really love you, but I'm not about to admit it anytime soon. Hotch wears his canon blank face to matter-of-factly reply:

"Because if this is not a serial, but actually terrorism, you and I are the most experienced agents from our team in these kind of cases."

"I see…" Rossi nods, wondering if Hotch is really buying his own lies, because it's plain to see Rossi isn't going to.

"Dave! I'm ready when you are!" Kurt calls out from the screen corner.

Rossi gives Hotch a moment to come clean, and since he goes back to the file like nothing happened, Rossi stands up.

"If you don't mind, I'm gonna enjoy the TPU way for a while."

He goes to where Kurt is already handing him a joystick, and Hotch smiles watching how the rest of the team gathers around them to watch the match.

The music switches from rock to a mix of epic classic with a bit of techno music, actually picked by Tanya to soundtrack Rossi's epic victories over Kurt.

Meanwhile, Gillian's drunk ten gallons of coffee and decided it's time to man up.

Again: this is business, it's work, lives depend on it, and she's lucky to have such experienced profilers like Hotch and Rossi to help her on this case. So it's time to see if she and Hotch can actually work together again. See if he's willing to bear her status of team leader and that she will stand as his equal this time, and actually call the shots.

She's got some thoughts going round her head that she doesn't want to share with her team, mostly not to upset them ahead of schedule. And if Hotch is being his wise self, he's perfect to share them with.

So she walks the death row to the last solitary seat, and even halfway she's already able to feel better and easier.

"May I?"

Hotch looks up at her and nods smiling. As she sits down in front of him, the TPU loudly cheers for Rossi. Hotch and Gillian glance at them smiling and she fills in before he asks:

"Dave's been coming to Boston every two or three weeks. The lads just love him."

Hotch just nods, then he notices Gillian's looking out the window, lost in thoughts. Whatever it is across her mind, he's willing to hear it, whether it's about her feelings, or what happened in Boston, or that she hates him and wants him out of the case and back to DC as soon as they land in Tampa.

So he asks: "What is it Gillian?"

She takes a beat before facing him. "It's this case… I've seen some bad things, but this…" she says, so low she's almost muttering.

If she wants to talk about the case, she's also most welcome. Hotch knows she's never really discussed a case with him before, the way she would do it with his team, and he's glad she's willing to do it.

So he opens the game: "What do you mean?"

She grimaces once more. "This virus causes bipolar disease, schizophrenia, depression, among other nice things, so the infected patients? These people ain't getting better —ever. They're gonna spend the rest of their lives in meds, never able to keep again a steady job, or a relationship, always in need of external care. Or simply locked up in a mental institution…"

"Yes, that's true," Hotch agrees, thinking —and this is only his brains and his professional empathy talking, that she has a very good point.

"Terrorism is like serial killers in a certain way," Gillian goes on. "Sometimes you wonder how the hell they can get so creative to kill others. But we're still talking death, and bio attacks are no different. A sniper, a bomb, anthrax, it's the same bottom line: let's kill a bunch right now and make the headlines tomorrow. But this…? We're not talking about terror."

"Then what are we talking about?"

Gillian can tell he's really engaged in their conversation, and she feels the relief of being able to confide this on him.

"Constant torture," she says. "For the victims and for the whole families, for years and years. The families won't get to bury their loved ones and move on: they're stuck with this man or this woman who used to be a loving parent, a good sibling, a nice spouse, and now they're sitting by the window, trying to remember their own names…"

"Terrorists have their share of sadism," Hotch points. "Else they couldn't do what they do."

"But terrorism is always about the shock, the numbers. Look what I can do to you in the blink of an eye. While this… don't you think this is sort of… too personal?"

Hotch narrows his eyes, considering. She's definitively got a point.

Gillian glances back at her team with a sad smile. "That's why I let them play and have these silly whiles. Because within an hour we're gonna be up to the neck in this."

"You do it because you care about them, Gillian. And you're trying to protect them."

Hotch is a bit puzzled at her ironic smile when she shakes her head. "No, that's you, not me. I'm not that kind. This is because I don't want them only caring about statistics and their careers. I want them in touch with their human side at all times. I want them to have fun and good times so they can relate to the victims, get mad at what happens to them. I want their guts to care, and make them do a better job."

This is new for Hotch, who never suspected her ways had to do with anything but the flavor of being always a bit of a rebel.

"That takes a harder toll on them," he points.

Gillian is death serious when she meets his eyes. "It should. We deal with large numbers of lives in terrorism. But large numbers make you forget about individuals. So I need them to relate and feel that every lost counts. Because every loss _has_ to hurt."


	8. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act One 1-6

_"__When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun" - William Shakespeare._

The three SUVs access the parking lot by the inn. It's a small B&B, only six rooms, and the TPU's booked them all, so now it's empty and waiting for them. Familiar, a few streets away from the beach, with a small swimming pool in the back garden.

Greta, the 60-year-old big nice owner of the inn, comes from behind the counter as soon as they walk in from the parking lot, and welcomes them with a warm smile. Gillian steps up stretching out her hand.

"You must be Greta, I'm Regan, nice to meet you."

"Welcome!" the woman says, shaking her hand. "I have it all set as you requested."

"Thanks. Al, check us in, please. Greta, can I have the keys now?"

The woman gives her six keys and explains: "These three are the single rooms with a little view. This is the double room and this is the triple one. And this is the one you wanted without beds, here in the ground floor."

"Thanks, Greta, it's just perfect."

She hands two of the single rooms' keys to Hotch and Rossi with a wink, then she tosses the double room key at Tanya, the triple room key at Fred and the last one at Kurt. Then she heads to the stairs, saying: "Girls room, boys rooms. Kurt, you're up to get the 101 ready. We're meeting in twenty."

Hotch and Rossi follow her up the stairs, holding back their curiosity. Not the BAU style at all, this small inn only for them, and Gillian's words suggest they're having their first field meeting right there.

"Where are you guys setting up shop?" Rossi asks.

"Right here, where they're just steps away from their beds when they need to crash."

"You're not working at our field office or a police station?" Hotch asks, puzzled.

She pauses at the second floor corridor and smiles at them, explaining: "No, we're not like you. When you guys come to a town to work a case, your presence gives people some peace of mind —the experts are handling it. But our presence is never good news, cos it means something awful may be about to happen. So we like to be left alone, to do our jobs right and fast. Your rooms should be the ones in the right."

Rossi smiles. "You got us the little view."

"You're our guests, I'm their boss, right?" she winks at Rossi. "See you guys in twenty downstairs. You just follow the noise."

She smiles again and heads to the other end of the short corridor, to the third room with a view.

Hotch and Rossi head to their own doors and Rossi comments: "Rooms with a view and working by a swimming pool… Can I consult for them more often?"

Hotch pats his shoulder scoffing. "Enjoy it while you can, Dave."


	9. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act One 2-6

The room has a king-size bed and a cozy couch under the window. Hotch leaves his go-bag over the chest of drawers and takes out his suit coat. It's hot and humid, plus he's going to work with a bunch of punks in swimming trunks and Hawaiian shirts in the privacy of this little inn. So he better finds in his go-bag something else than suits and ties. Because he can adapt.

All in all, things are not as terrible as he expected. Gillian's actually talking to him in a very civil, even almost friendly way, and she's allowed herself to share her thoughts about the case with him.

Hotch doesn't trick himself into believing her friendly ways mean the air is clear between them, because it's rather the other way around. She's walled up so tight and high her feelings for him, that she's even able to treat him like nothing happened.

But he's determined to go step by step. The first obstacle was bridged, so now it's time to work the case and let things flow their own way. He's open, and he will stay open. Right now that's all he can do.

At the other end of the corridor, Gillian is looking out her window, arms crossed on the windowpane, her eyes fixed on the slice of sparkling sea she gets to see out there.

She's not thinking: she's feeling relieved. She's never thought of seeing Hotch again so soon, and she's found out that along these months lost in her private ramblings about him, she's almost forgotten who he is.

Now she's feeling close to when she joined the BAU to go to San Diego, ready to take heed of the opportunity of learning more from both Hotch and Rossi, and enjoy the exquisite way their inquisitive minds work, to use it on the case's behalf.

She's not going further than that. She can't. She's been way further out than that and it was all for nothing. Yes, she still loves him. Yes, she'd jump his bones on the spot. But that's unrequited and there's nothing either of them can do about it, so she won't let it come in the way again. Ever again. She just can't afford it.

He knows, and yet he's here. And it's a good chance not only to man up about it, but to grow up. So if she's learned a little something about life, she needs to take this chance and see if she can finally give herself a break.


	10. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act One 3-6

The 101 room is how the TPU calls the room where they set up shop and work throughout a case. This time it's the only room in the ground floor, with a large sliding window opening to the back garden and the swimming pool. Beds were removed and replaced by a table with eight chairs and an additional board table with a thousand sockets.

Once they step in it, there's no contact with the outside world. The team can isolate themselves from any external interference for the time they need or want to.

Now they're listening to some music while Tanya and Kurt deploy half a dozen computers on both tables. Fred is bringing a couple of boards while Aldana is preparing folders and tablets. Hank comes with two large packs of small bottles of water and stores them in the fridge.

Gillian walks in as Fred brings the last board, and he's about to close the door, out of habit since the whole team is already here, when Hotch and Rossi join them. Gillian glances at them and conceals a smile, at seeing that Hotch's changed his suit for street pants and a blue short-sleeved shirt.

Then Fred does close the door and Tanya turns the music off. As the team gathers around the table, Rossi and Hotch stay a couple of steps away, curious to watch what comes next.

This is completely different from the way they work. In the BAU, they're all experts in the same field. Here they work in different fields, and it's on Gillian to make them apply their skills on different aspects of the case to find a breach and break it, and to find something useful to do to those whose expertise don't apply, like Aldana and Fred.

The first thing they notice is that despite they're still wearing their punks-on-a-picnic gear, as Hotch called it to himself back on the jet, there are no more jokes and no hints of smartass ways. They speak in serious, even dry tones, completely focused on their work.

"Ok, lads, let's talk business," Gillian opens. "Hank, how long till we hear from the CDC?"

"Three more hours at least."

"Fine. T, focus on the first cases, from the theatre. Look for overlaps in credit card charges in there. See if they bought food or drink or anything else at the same stand. And find who was the first of them to buy something there."

"And then security feeds backwards."

"Exactly. We're not accepting delays in clearings for the feeds. If they need time, we don't have it. In how many hospitals do we have patients?"

"Four," Aldana informs.

"We're taking two and two. Hank, I want you on the CDC's ass, no break. Call them every hour. And use this time to become a BVD expert." Gillian turns to Hotch. "Sir, can we consult with Reid if we need to?"

"Yes, he's standing by for this."

"Great. Hank, call Reid, he can help you get a better picture of this faster."

"You got it."

"Al, set a meeting with all the hospital directors of the city for this evening and inform our field office and the local authorities that we're here and working on it. You know-"

"Here means Tampa, not this inn."

"Exactly. They can reach us on the phone around the clock but we're in a blue police box in another universe. Lads, by sunset we need to know how the patients got infected and what can we expect from this wild string. Fred, you and agent Rossi take two of the hospitals, I'm taking the other two with agent Hotchner. Al, send the addresses to our GPS and let them know we're coming."

Aldana pats her pile of files. "Victimology is all over. Black, white, Hispanic, men, women, young, old, high-class, blue-collar…"

"Yeah, but at some point, all of them came across the same thing that infected them. And that's what we need to find. Kurt, find out what kind of training you need to be able to produce this wild string. Genetics? Virology? Both? What else?

"I'll pull a list of anyone qualified and start digging into their lives."

Gillian turns again to Hotch and Rossi. "Anything you may need?"

"No, not right now."

"Then that's it, lads. Let's roll."

She spins around and heads out, Fred follows at once. Hotch and Rossi walk out after him as Rossi whispers: "And I've heard Morgan once called _you_ a drill sergeant…"

Hotch nods raising his eyebrows.


	11. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act One 4-6

Out in the parking lot, Fred is already behind the wheel of one of the SUVs, while Gillian is resting against the hood of another, sunglasses on. As Rossi joins Fred, she notices Hotch is heading to her passenger door and frowns.

"What're you doing? I can open my door," she teases, throwing him the keys.

Hotch catches them in the air with a little smile and gets in behind the wheel.

"Sir?" he says as they drive out into the street, sunglasses on too.

"Last time I called you different I got suspended. So yeah, sir it is."

"Okay…"

He's looking ahead, paying attention to the traffic, but he has a glimpse of her teasing smile and automatically smiles back.

They're both finding out they don't need to be so stressed up around each other. And recalling they used to share some sort of a sense of humor.

Hotch is also adapting all he's ever thought he knew about her as a professional to what he just saw. Since they've always met on his turf, he's always seen her like some kind of rookie, somebody taking her first steps. Yes, he knows about her 20 so honored years in the police, but it's always been more of a nominal concept, since they were working on profiles and she's not a profiler.

But just a few minutes ago, he's just discovered she walked in there with a clear picture of the whole case, and she split it in order to have everybody working on something useful. The next logic step is that all of them will come back to her with their outcomes, and she will have to correctly assess all of it and draw the cards again for them to keep working. And he can tell she will do it without a blink.

It's curious, how a five-minutes-long briefing took her, in his mental map, from her rookie level to her actual status of unit chief. And what a better explanation this briefing is, for him, to understand that rule-bending force field around her. And the high effectiveness of her team, which keeps canvasing the country and finding threats buried under the deepest rocks —and neutralizing them, both from their office or in the field.

It's not about her rebel smartass way —which now seems to be just a façade for her spare time, or her looks and her smile. You cannot care about jeans with such a devoted, sharp and skilled asset, that will solve a case like this in 48 hours top, like now he knows she will, whether it's a terrorist cell or a serial killer —and if it really turns out to be a serial killer, it makes her even more brilliant, for being able of suspecting it in such a text book terrorist scenario.

As he drives to the Florida Hospital Tampa, he can trace the chart of his professional respect for her spiking up as he never expected it to.

And sitting at his right, Gillian is simply breathing the sea breeze smoothly mixing with Hotch's cologne. And thinking about how good it feels, being around Hotch and being able not to piss him off and even see him smile.


	12. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act One 5-6

At the Tampa General, the doctor in charge of the infected patients explains to Rossi and Fred:

"Our patients are stable now. The inflammation is receding, and we have them in constant observation."

"How d'you expect them to evolve?" Fred asks.

"Once the encephalitis is cured, then we'll see what other consequences the virus had on them."

"You mean if they present neurological disorders," Rossi clarifies.

"Yes. And it may take some time to establish a realistic prognosis. Neurological infections can be deceiving."

At the Florida Hospital Tampa, Hotch and Gillian are talking to doctor Evans, right outside an ICU where three infected patients are isolated.

"The problem is that there are no deep studies on BVD," Evan says, flustered. "There isn't even an approved drug to treat it. So all we can do is giving them the regular treatment for meningitis."

"And after the encephalitis is gone?" Hotch asks.

"Then it will depend on every particular case, and it will most likely be a psychiatric treatment."

"Is there any chance of a full recovery for these patients?" Gillian asks.

"I'm afraid not, unlike meningitis, which sometimes can be cured with no further consequences for the patient. Now we can only save their lives, but the effects of the virus are permanent."

Back in DC, Garcia walks into the conference room and finds the table full of open books and Reid reading at his warp 5 speed. She turns on the screen for him and opens a video conference.

"There you go, boy wonder."

"Thanks, Garcia," Reid mutters, completely focused on what he's reading.

Then Garcia notices the garden and the swimming pool on screen, and that Hank comes to sit under a big red umbrella dressed like he's on the beach.

"Hey, this is how the TPU works? I want to work with them!"

"No, trust me you don't," Reid grimaces. "Hank, did you get the book?"

"Yeap," Hank answers from Tampa.

"Go to page 371 and start reading that section."

Garcia circles the table and takes a look at what Reid is reading. Her smile vanishes as her eyes widen in dread.

"Hank, I'm sending you a list of the books you need to consult."

"Can you give me the quick tour?"

"Sure, I already read them, but you need to have them anyway." Reid rips off a page from his block and gives it to Garcia. "Would you send this to Hank?"

"Sure…," Garcia mutters. "This…? This is what that possible bio attack is about…?"

Reid nods.

On their way back to the inn, Gillian calls Fred on speakers.

"Hey ho, what d'you have?"

"The patients in both hospitals are stable and the doctors are optimistic," Rossi says.

"Good news, bad news, Reg," Fred says. "They're gonna make it, but…"

"Yeah, they might wish they didn't," Gillian sighs. "See you guys back at the inn."

She hangs up slightly shaking her head.

"Good news, bad news," she grunts under her breath. "I love how naïve people can be…"

Hotch glances at her, surprised at her bitterness. "Let's see what your team has, and then we can sit with Dave and try a rough profile," he says.

Gillian flashes a little smile. "I like that," she says, nodding. "And I like your blend-in gear."

Hotch also nods smiling back. "Thanks," he neutrally replies.

He's realizing that he's smiling way more than usual since he got on board the TPU jet. But this is not a BAU case, so he can bend his canon a little for once. Gillian's sure worth it.


	13. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act One 6-6

Just like he's foreseen, as soon as they walk back into the 101 room, the team throws all they have on her.

Aldana says: "Reg, they'll be expecting you at the General at 7 pm. Nothing from CDC yet, Hank is out in the garden, taking the crash course with Reid."

Gillian nods and takes on the roll call for results. "Ok, Kurt?"

"We have too many names, Reg, we need to narrow it down somehow. Virologists, geneticists, biochemists, any of them could have done this, and with all of them together we're in four figures numbers."

"Tanya?"

"I think I found the overlap: it wasn't inside the theatre, but at a convenience store around the corner."

"Good! Stay on it. Try to find out what they purchased. Fred and Dave?"

Aldana fills in: "Reid sent a list of books Hanks needs, they were stopping by to buy them on their way back here."

"Why doesn't he just download them to his tablet?"

"Old school nerd: he wants paper, to compare and underline and stuff."

"They're also bringing lunch."

"Lunch, Kurt? Already?" Gillian scowls.

Tanya points: "Considering the traffic, they won't be back before noon."

They really need to narrow Kurt's lists down, but right now Gillian is out of ideas. She wants to ask Hotch about it and she doesn't want to distract the team, so she turns to him lowering her voice.

"Upstairs or outside?"

Before Hotch can answer, Aldana says: "Hank is outside."

"Should we clear the table?" Kurt teases.

Hotch needs a beat to get it, and by then the team is laughing as Gillian scoffs:

"No, thanks, dears." —we just had a row on his desk this morning, in my dreams.

Right then Hank shows at the open door to the garden.

"Reg, we're screwed. Big. This Borna virus? It belongs to the same family with the Ebola and the flu. So it can be easily tempered into airborne, and spread like fire, and infect everything that comes across."

A thick silence fills the room, as all the eyes turn to Gillian —Hotch's included, ready to step in in case she freezes. But she doesn't even flinch. Actually, she just had an idea. It's always the same: she doesn't know why, but she functions better under pressure.

"It's ok, Hank, you keep reading. Al, make the CDC hate you. Kurt, search into the equipment to do this and who has access to it, that will narrow it. Tanya, I need a map and info to make a time line."


	14. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 1-7

Rossi walks into the 101 bringing four pizzas and a pack of soda cans, Fred follows him carrying a heavy pile of thick books.

Kurt and Tanya are focused on their computers, Aldana is at the printer, Gillian is marking something on a map pinned to the board, while Hotch writes on a time line. Hank is coming from the garden, with his book and his computer.

Nobody even glances at them.

"Hello, Fred, thank you so much for bringing lunch."

"You're very welcome, Dave. Thanks for the heavy books."

"Fred, we need another board. And a plasma screen," Gillian shoots.

"Sure, let me rub the magic lamp," Fred placidly replies.

Kurt looks up at him about to chuckle, but he spots the pizza and forgets about anything else.

"LUNCH!" he thunders, startling up Hotch.

The whole team drops whatever they're doing and gathers around the table to eat like starving wolves.

Rossi notices Hotch is right about to level up in blending in and get the master, and if he knows him a little, it's not pretended. He wouldn't work more than a case like this, but come to an exception, he's playing by the TPU —Gillian's rules without any problem.

Just a moment ago, when Rossi came in, Hotch was just one more of the people working in the room, trying to apply what he knows to help in the case like the rest of them. Now Hotch snatches a slice of pizza, grabs his soda and nods at Rossi to join him before the board, backs turned to the others as they speak in low voices.

Rossi quickly sums it up: "So we're dealing with one of the Ebola's cousins. And it's a virus very hard to detect, with no known treatment, that causes permanent neurological damage."

"And no-one would ever connect the dots because it causes different psychiatric disorders," Hotch adds.

"This far all the cases presented encephalitis."

"The ones we know about. If they weaponize it, making it airborne, there's no telling the damage they can cause. They could turn half a city into schizophrenia patients within a couple of weeks."

"Any leads, this far?"

Hotch shakes his head, flustered. "We can't build a demographic profile and there's no consistent victimology. All we have is the infection points: a convenience store outside the theatre and a mini-market outside the aquarium."

"Four cases from the first point, six from the second. We should expect more victims the next time."

"And those people can be already infected without knowing it."

"I GOT IT!" Tanya cries from her computer, triumphant. "All the cases from the mini-market bought soda cans!"

Everybody shoots suspicious looks at the cans in their hands. Gillian smirks.

"Well, we still have a week left before going mental, right? That should be enough to solve this shit. C'mon, lads! Al, have all the stock removed from there and sent to the CDC to test it."

That gets all the team back to work. Rossi scoffs, muttering: "She's relentless…"

And he swallows his surprise when Hotch nods with a glad proud smile. Yeap. She's relentless. And he likes relentless alright.


	15. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 2-7

Hank hangs up his phone in time to lay hands on a slice of pizza. "The CDC is sending the results in ten minutes."

Fred is going through some papers. "This far, the first patients are overcoming the encephalitis, but none of them has regained consciousness yet."

"Kurt? What about your search?" Gillian asks.

"We're gonna need access to the records of the labs all over the city, to check the projects they're working on."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Hank taunts.

"I got it," Hotch says, and goes out to the garden dialing his phone.

Now Rossi notices Gillian's glance at Hotch.

All of a sudden it's so easy, having him there. So easy, so helpful, so good. She's enjoying so much working this with him. She's past glad about it, and firmly treading into plain happy.

Rossi doesn't like bursting anybody's bubble, but she signals Gillian to join him.

"We need to work on the profile, Reg. You're gonna need it for tonight's meeting."

Back to business in a blink, Gillian agrees. "Yeah, you're right."

Hotch comes back in, serious to announce: "We'll have the warrants before the meeting."

"Awesome, thanks!" Gillian grins.

This is how she loves him best, the brilliant, efficient man she respects and admires. All the more now, seeing how he tries to go with her team's flow, accepting the complete lack of formality and her calls without a blink, lining up right by her side to work together, ready to bring all of his experience and intelligence to the table whenever they may need them, helping to clear the way for them whenever he can.

He's so damned perfect for her.

Rossi is telling him: "We have enough for a rough profile, to help narrow the search."

Hotch nods glancing around. Not a quiet corner in here. "Let's go upstairs."

Gillian can't help to say, like a child asking for one more ride on the merry-go-round.

"Can I go with you guys? You know I love watching you work!"

Hotch turns to her with a little ironic smile. "Sure you're coming, Gillian, but not to watch. You're gonna work this profile with us."

"Yessir," she teases, and turns to the table. "Lads, I'll be with agents Hotchner and Rossi in my room if you need us. But give us at least thirty, ok?"

It's what they really need to work and come up with something, but she says it in the right way for the others to chuckle and tease them as they walk out.


	16. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 3-7

However, as soon as they're out of the 101, Gillian feels the full weight of the case looming onto her. It's true they have enough for a rough profile, and she has enough to get a very scary picture of what they're facing.

She knows she won't panic —Hotch is the only thing on earth able to make her panic. But she's feeling this cold hole in her belly as they go up the stairs to her room.

She's used to this sensation, she feels it every time they face a terrorist threat. And she doesn't repress it. It's got to do with what she said to Hotch back on the jet. It's relating. It's keeping always in sight the real individual dimension of the threat. It's feeling in her flesh the fear it's meant to cause, to fight it from inside out.

Hotch notices something's off with her, and he confirms it as soon as they walk into her room, when she rests a hand on the door with a shaky breath.

"Gillian…?" he asks, concerned.

She shakes her head. "Don't worry, it's just fear. I just couldn't wait to get outta that room to panic." She looks up at him death serious. "Would you help me?"

"Of course, what do you need?"

Jeez, it's so good to have him here right now. She says in that plain, open way of hers: "Make me think. You know how. Help me think this through."

At her words, Rossi sits down on the small couch by the window and lays back, ready to watch and enjoy what he knows is about to happen.

"Right now we're most likely talking about food tempering, right?" Gillian says.

"Yes, probably."

"Meaning I buy Connor a soda and two weeks later he has schizophrenia. Or you buy a milk for Jack and he ends up bipolar for the rest of his life."

"Our children are not a good example to keep your head clear," he seriously points.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to keep it real. But you're right."

She looks up at him again, waiting.

Hotch knows what she wants. It's what she always asks from him, like when they first met and she told him: "help me open my eyes and see", and ten minutes later they had identified the unsub. And then with Palmer, and again with Trent, and yet again with Carson. He's going to show her the trail he sees, she's going to feed on it —on him, and track it down, and together they will figure it out.

He never thought they'll be doing it again, and he's just so happy to oblige. So he steps back to rest against the chest of drawers, folded arms, as Gillian starts to slowly pacing, her voice growing firmer as they speak.

Just like she's always done, she's ready to dive head-on into what Hotch says and let him set her mind in motion. And Hotch dives in as well, doing what he always does with his team, only now it's Gillian weaving her thoughts with him.

It's Hotch who starts. "Ok, what do we know?"

And Gillian says: "They changed the virus to make it work through ingestion, so they could've made it airborne. But they didn't."

"They want to control who they affect. An airborne virus is impossible to control."

"Control."

"What you said on our way here: something personal?"

"Psychological torture."

"So a certain degree of sadism."

"Without a sexual component?"

"None that we can see this far. Than can change. It doesn't rule it out."

From the couch, Rossi enjoys the show, watching the cogwheels fit so well and spin their magic together, very determined to leave the room before uttering a single world to disturb them, as Gillian goes on:

"Aggression without a sexual component takes me back to the female unsub theory."

"The poisoning as a weapon of choice backs it, too. So a woman, with both training and access to equipment to work on this rare virus."

"She's managed it to slip tempered goods in those stores. So she can be whether targeting particular individuals or trying to make a statement. What kind of statement could it be?"

"That depends on what is she trying to get attention to."

"BVD or neurological disorders. Why?"

"That would be the stressor. It could be a personal tragedy. Somebody close to her that contracted BVD or was diagnosed with a neurological disorder."

"What are we talking about? Mid forties?"

"I think so, yes, in order to have both the training and the clearance. So it can be her spouse or her child."

"Women don't snap for a husband once they have children. Before? Maybe. But not after becoming a mother."

"Then we're talking about her child."

"Her only child."

"Possibly. If she had others to look after, she would hold on to them."


	17. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 4-7

Gillian sharply halts to gawk up at Hotch, realization swelling upon her. Did they just profiled a poisoner? Hotch and her? She feels the warm sensation spreading in her chest. Oh yes, right now she would so hug him and kiss him —and then kick Rossi out and do some more, but never mind.

Good Lord, this man! She really wishes her face is not selling out the real dimension of the awe she is in for him.

She finds his mild smile —he's actually smiling a lot today, as Rossi stands up pretending to be annoyed.

"I don't know why I bother. I could be taking a swim instead of wasting my time here with you two."

Gillian turns to him, still gawking and floating in her private paradise of awe and wonder. Rossi's smile is as warm as proud. "So? Are you taking the profiling courses now?" he says.

She shakes her head, radiant.

"Never!" she says, and runs out of the room, storming downstairs to the 101.

Hotch shakes his head, smiling at the open door. He's still trying to emerge from the dive. Following the hints and pushing every piece in place, feel them fitting the puzzle, take form, that all-absorbing process. And doing it with her… it adds the pull, that physical connection he's always felt, whenever they did something like this, and it's all so strong, so compelling.

Is the thrill of doing what he loves with the woman he loves, and that they just did it so damn well.

He takes in a very deep breath, because this time that thing about the physical pull's been a bit more than a metaphor. When she stopped pacing and turned to him, meeting her eyes at the same exact moment that he felt they were dead-on right, and seeing the exact same feeling showing in her face…

Hotch is thinking that he really needs to go back to the safety of his canon, because that instant felt plain sexual. He's willing to bet his best suit than when —not if he finally gets to have some intimacy with her, that's exactly how her face is going to look in her climax. All of which Gillian would've said in a much shorter, blunter way. But Hotch is trying to deal with the fact of being aroused by him and Gillian profiling together

And the obvious conclusion that from now on, profiling with the team is going to be so damn lousy, no matter how brilliant and intelligent all of them are and how much he likes them.

"Next time I'm taking a video of you two working together," Rossi warns.

"She could be such a profiler…," Hotch says, fighting the fair battle back to canon.

"But she doesn't function like this with anyone else but you, Hotch," Rossi says, maybe slightly suspecting all the meanings Hotch is giving to his words and how his virile ego is feeding on them. "What she said, _make me think, you know how?_ That's true."

Hotch is about to kiss Rossi, but he stays looking at the open door, hands in his pockets until he cools completely down, and tries what he expects to be an expectable answer: "But I don't. I just do what we always do…" —only this time it was… well, worthy a cold shower.

"Yes, you know, in your guts. That's why you're our team leader, Hotch. But even so, you don't often get to see something like this."

Rossi considers adding a spicy, Gillian-like tease. Something like "next time don't make me watch", or maybe even "you should try the table", but right then they hear Tanya squealing:

"SON OF A BITCH!"

They trade a frown and they hurry out of the room.


	18. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 5-7

Everybody is gathered behind Tanya, and Hotch and Rossi join them. Then she shows them a security feed from the mini-market, the image of a woman's back, wearing a cap to shadow her face. She's taking six soda cans from the fridge and replacing them with six cans from her backpack.

Gillian motherly kisses Tanya's hair and turns to Hotch, gasping: "A woman…!"

He nods smiling, amused at her persistent surprise. Rossi goes to stand by Kurt.

"Here's to narrow your search, kiddo: woman, mid-forties, she's lost a child in the last two years."

"Well, that can do. And maybe next time, I'll let you win," Kurt boasts

"Shut up!" Fred mocks him. "He kicked your sorry ass from here to Sunday!"

Gillian turns again to Hotch, trying really hard to keep her feet back on the ground, despite the profile just proved correct and Hotch looks so damn good when he smiles, and it's such a happy rush that he's actually smiling at her.

"You need to deliver her profile to the police," she seriously says. "Aldana can fix it."

"Good. Do you want us to go to your meeting? We can meet the police authorities after that."

Gillian's eyes widen in plain happy surprise and she eagerly nods. "Would you? Then yeah! I want you right there, backing me up!"

Hotch is really enjoying her smile and how her blue eyes are shining at him right now. He wants to see her like this so many more times, because of him.

"Suit or polo, ma'am?" he seriously asks.

"Suit, of course! And your scary scowl, please?"

Hotch nods scoffing.

Gillian grins, taking mental note to write to Dante about this particular circle of heaven of Hotch joking with her and being so sweet and smiling like this at her. And Hotch is praying for somebody to break this moment, else he's going to kiss her right there in front of all of them.

Ask and you shall receive.

"Reg, I got the CDC report," Hanks says from across the table. "They know less than we know. I'm sending them the charts from the patients' day-to-day evolution that the hospitals made for us, but there's no time for testing and observing. They're sending people over."

Hotch feels a spark of flustered relief when she spins around at once to answer: "Then you and Reid are the ace up our sleeve, Hank. Get ready to do a short exposition."


	19. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 6-7

Morgan and Jennifer join Reid at the conference room, as Garcia opens on screen the live stream that Tanya is sending her from the meeting in Tampa.

The large hall is crowded with hospital directors and executives, managers from most of the laboratories in the area and MDs, all of them sitting in long rows of chairs, taking notes from Hank's exposition.

He's standing on a platform before them, showing them pictures of comparative charts, as well as enhanced images from the Borna virus and the new string.

Once he's finished with the technical comparisons between, he goes straight to practical effects of those differences.

"What little we know about how BVD actually works is that the infection comes from inhaling infected tissue, the incubation period is four weeks, the first symptoms are dramatic mood shifts, both in humans and animals, and then there could be fever and convulsions, that may lead to a fatal encephalitis," he sums up. "While, this far, the new string works through ingestion, the incubation period's been shortened to 5 to 7 days, and the symptoms skip straight to encephalitis."

Hank steps back and Gillian steps up. She's wearing a white tailored suit and high heels, all business. And behind her, just like she requested, Hotch stands wearing a suit and a proper scowl.

"The CDC is sending agents, they will be here tomorrow morning," she says, in her confident, efficient way. "But it doesn't change the fact that right now, gentlemen, you are our only reliable source of information on the development of the new string cases. So please, contact us to report any change you think relevant. You have our numbers, and we're here for you 24 hours a day."

The capture from the security feed, showing the woman by the fridge, fills the screens.

"Once more, this is not a terrorist attack as we know them, this is the work of this woman, but she can cause as much damage as a terrorist. And you can help us to find her."

A young man in a wealthy suit, sitting like all of this is just such a waste of his precious time, says: "And don't you have anything better than that blurry picture?"

Gillian answers right away: "Yes, sir, we have something much better. We're working with Supervisory Special Agents Hotchner and Rossi, from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, with the FBI, like us. And they're about to deliver this woman's profile to the police, so they can start searching for her right away."

"And what does it mean?" the young man mockingly asks.

Gillian bestows on him a smile meant to cancel the ongoing summer as she steps back. She glances at Hotch, who's already taking the front line on the stand.

"See!?" cries Garcia pointing at the screen. "Did you see the look they just traded?"

"Hush! Let me hear, Penelope!" Jennifer chides her.

Hotch speaks in his rock solid methodical way, his eyes moving over the faces before them: "Behavioral Analysis provides an accurate profile of an unknown subject's psyche, as well as motivations, tendencies and possible fields of activities. It helps the police to narrow their search, usually to even one single name. And that's the information we're about to give to the local police."

Gillian steps up and stands by Hotch, concealing that right now, with him by her side like this, she feels like she can take over the whole world.

"Thank you all very much for your time and collaboration. We'll be at the lobby in case you have any further questions. Good night."

Hotch precedes her to leave the platform, only to offer her his hand to help her down the few steep steps. And both of them avoid eye contact as they feel the chill at that simple, fleeting contact.

"It's the red tie!" Garcia says then.

Morgan turns to her, his face screaming "what!?". Garcia huffs.

"Whenever Hotch is wearing a red tie, LT just can't take her eyes off him."

The other three blankly stare at her and she snorts, annoyed.

Then Jennifer says, like bothered at stating the obvious: "Penelope, Reg never takes her eyes off Hotch, no matter what he's wearing."

Garcia gawks at her while Morgan and Reid chuckle, shaking their heads.


	20. Gillian Saga VI - Wildflower Act Two 7-7

At the lobby, people from laboratories quickly leave the meeting, while the medical staff approach them with all kind of questions. Hank handles them, with Rossi's and Aldana's assistance.

Then Hotch notices that many of the younger men in the meeting are not sure if they have the right number to contact Gillian, which Hotch concludes is mostly due to her maybe-too-fit white skirt and her blue eyes framed by her informal bun. Well, maybe also due to her toned legs, and the two undone buttons to her navy blue blouse.

She doesn't do it on purpose, but she stays all the time almost sticking her arm against Hotch —breathing his cologne in and out and feeling gratifyingly secure, as she hands out personal cards with a bullet proof smile. Which would've been notoriously wider if she'd been aware of the cold scowl all of these men are getting from Hotch as soon as they come closer than two steps from her.

And Hotch really didn't want to notice it, but she's standing so close to him, that at some moment he glances down at her and has a glimpse of the blue lace of her bra beneath her blouse. Which causes the last man to look up at him and step back, almost apologizing for accepting Gillian's card.

Until she gets sick and tired of this, cos they have work to do and the heels are killing her, and signals her team to leave.

Hotch and Rossi are heading to the Police HQ, so they take one of the SUVs, as Gillian and her team split to take the other two. They're about to take off when doctor Evans, from the Florida Hospital, approaches them to tell them that two possible cases of BVD have been just admitted at his hospital's ER.

Gillian and Evans are standing by Hotch's rolled down window, and she turns to him: "You go deliver the profile, I'm checking on this."

They trade a quick nod and Hotch drives away.

"Go back to your post, doctor, I'll be right there," she said.

Before Hotch and Rossi arrive to the Police HQ, Rossi's phone rings. He takes the call and hands it to Hotch right away. Hotch takes it with a questioning look.

Gillian's words feel like the worst low blow when she whispers in her ear, so troubled that she forgets about sir and stuff:

"Hotch, they're children…"


	21. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 1-8

All the high ranked officers of Tampa PD, and even a couple from the brass, are expecting Hotch and Rossi. They stand before them relaying on all of their professional experience to keep focused, after Gillian's disturbing news. Fine, they don't want to be here, they want to be at the hospitals, talking to the doctors and families, trying to track back how the kids got infected. But they know Gillian has that covered, and what they're about to do is more helpful than just escorting Gillian's team. So they do it.

They make sure everybody has a copy of the woman's picture before Hotch opens, as usual: "We're looking for a white female in her late thirties to early forties. She's a professional working on virology, biochemistry or genetics."

Rossi takes from there. "We believe she's suffered a personal loss, possibly her child, due to the BVD or some of the neurological disorders it causes, and the pain of this tragedy overwhelmed her, to the extent of causing a psychotic break."

"Now her whole reality is affected by the effects of her tragedy, and she's trying to attract the public's attention to what caused it. That's why she's tempering non-alcoholic drinks and leaving them in small stores, for anyone to buy them and get infected."

"The kind of delusion she's trapped in will not recede. She will keep doing this until we stop her."

"More cases of fatal encephalitis are arriving to local hospitals as we speak, so time is of the essence to keep more people from being infected. Thank you."

As soon as they're finished, a couple of men approach them with questions. Hotch's phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call.

It's Aldana with a quick sit rep: they're expected at the City Hall to help them with a press release and another child's been admitted in the Tampa General ten minutes ago. Gillian is still at the Florida.


	22. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 2-8

Despite they're isolated in the ICU, there are relatives of the three infected patients moving around the glassed room. Gillian's been talking to them, bringing them coffee or water, sitting down with them to keep them some company. They know there's nothing she can do to heal their loved ones, but it makes them feel better to see that the people running the investigation care. And that's why she's here, as soon as she was able to get rid of the stupid suit and wear some decent jeans and sandals.

The hardest part is obviously the parents of the two infected kids. Their children are in another ICU and the doctors are working on easing their encephalitis, trying to prevent it from becoming fatal. However, Gillian is able to get some valuable information from them.

She takes what she calls a break and strolls down the hallway, away from the nurse station, to use her phone. She knows it's not fair, letting her anger out on her team, but they know her enough to take it personally. What's more, they all sound calm and reassuring,

"Believe or not, none of the local laboratories have all the pieces of equipment needed for this," Hank says. "At least not legally reported, and to go deeper we'd need search warrants and a window of time we don't have."

"The search?" she grunts.

"Nothing in Tampa, we're going nationwide now," Fred reports.

"Along with a search for the equipment," Tanya adds.

"Kurt, you give me five names before midnight or I'll have your ass."

"You'll have them in thirty," he replies right away.

"Al, make sure they remove that brand of soda from any store near schools in the whole city. And it has to be done tonight."

"You got it. Dave is now with the mayor and his press staff. I'm calling him right away."

Gillian is about to say something when she hears a muffled cry. She hangs up hurrying back to the ICUs and sees doctors and nurses hurrying to the first unit, where the adult patients are. One of them is violently convulsing, and the cry was from his wife, a sweet 25 pregnant girl, that's been here since her husband was committed.

She's been talking to the girl, chatting about the baby, and she hurries to her side, right in time to hold her up when her knees falter. Relatives of the other patients come around, and all of them watch in dismay how a nurse closes the curtains to the room.

The girl breaks in tears against Gillian's shoulder, who gently leads her to the closest chair and helps her to sit down. She talks the girl into calling her parents, since she's not feeling well, but she's too upset to speak, so Gillian herself talks to them on the girl's phone.

A nurse joins them, and Gillian leaves her with the girl as she hurries to bring a glass of water. She's giving it to the girl when she spots Hotch striding down the hallway to her. The nurse nods at Gillian, she will take care of the girl, and Gillian walks up to meet Hotch past the nurse station.

"Larry Johnson, the first patient admitted with encephalitis, is convulsing," is her welcome.

Hotch nods with a deep breath. "The children?"

Gillian takes him to the second ICU, where the children are.

"Ben, 6, and Suzy, 10. Their parents use to buy them a soda when they come out of school…," she looks up at him, death serious. "Different schools."

Hotch frowns, she just nods.

"Dave just called me from the City Hall," he says. "Along with the press release, they're pulling off the market all brands of soda cans until this is over."

"Good. But these kids bought them days ago, and there's no telling how many more did. This far, four were admitted tonight. And you and Dave agree to expect more from last time. It means these are hardly half of them, if we're very lucky."

They stay in silence, watching the children. They're both parents, and seeing those kids lying there adds a very grim edge to the situation for them.

"You should go get some rest," Gillian dully says then.

"So do you," Hotch quietly replies.

"No, I'm staying."

"There's nothing you can do here."

Gillian's eyes sparkle with anger, fixed on the children, as her voice hardens.

"Oh, yes. I can do something very useful. I can get really mad. Cos tomorrow I'm facing a woman whose child went through exactly this, and died. And I can't afford to empathize with her."


	23. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 3-8

Before Hotch can answer, they hear the pregnant girl crying out loud. Evans's joined the nurse around her, and the curtains of the ICU are open again: the first patient's now officially the first fatal victim of the poisoner.

Gillian's phone buzzes, and she gives it to Hotch before hurrying to the girl. He walks away down the hallway to take the call.

"Say you love me."

Hotch swallows a curse and drily says: "This is Hotchner, Gillian is busy."

What a surprise, Kurt scoffs and replies: "Then please don't say it. We may have something. No current or former employee of any lab in Tampa fits the profile. But we found somebody through the list of the essential equipment needed to do this."

"She's a virologist from a lab in Atlanta, subsidiary to the CDC. She worked there until 2010 and ordered several of those items the same year. They were shipped to her home address in Atlanta," Tanya says.

"She moved out from Atlanta that same year," Kurt goes on. "And we didn't find any new address under her name. But. I'm running facial recognition on her picture against Tampa's data base of driver licenses. Still on it, but at least we're closing in on her."

It's like working with Garcia: you get used to overlook her ways over her results. So Hotch says: "Good work. Any new cases reported?"

"No, the hospitals are in alert, they'll let us know anything right away," Fred says.

Aldana adds: "City staff is already working to remove the goods from the stores, and the Healthcare Department already gave a press conference about it, right after the mayor's press release."

Hotch recalls what he's just seen. "Hank, call the CDC and inform them that the first patient died just a minute ago."

"Ok, on it. Try to get Dr. Evans to send me a report as soon as he can. What we need is an autopsy to check if the patient had any other condition that might have worked with the virus to cause his death."

"At least now we can get'er for murder," Fred bitterly says.

"We'll call you back."

Hotch hangs up as the girl's parents brush past him. Gillian leaves her to them and goes to meet him with Evans.

He explains the medic what they need from the autopsy, the man just nods, openly worried, and goes back to his work. Hotch is filling Gillian on what her team has when her phone buzzes again.

They walk away once more from the nurse station. She takes the call, keeping the phone between her and Hotch, who leans closer to her so he can hear too.

"Guys, alert St. Joseph's to keep an eye on their patients, they have the second case that was reported."

"Got it. Now good news, bad news," Aldana says. "We got her, Tanya is sending you the info as we speak."

"But the CDC requested us not to arrest her at her home address until they arrive," Hank explains. "Considering she must have a small lab at her house, she may have more biohazard material in there, and they want us to let them handle it."

"Then tell them they gotta be here within the next two hours," Gillian grunts.

"Sorry, tomorrow 7 am," Fred says.

Hotch and Gillian trade a look. And they're so engaged in what's going on, that they don't even notice their faces are just an inch away. They just look into each other's eyes and see they're thinking exactly the same.

"Send us her address and get us the order now. Just in case," Hotch says.

"You got it. Bye."

Hotch and Gillian are already striding away together to the street.


	24. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 4-8

Back to the inn, Rossi finds that the TPU has everything covered, so he decides it's time to take things easier for a while. Soon he walks into the 101 wearing shorts, slippers and a light shirt, with a glass of wine that Greta fixed for him with a nice smile. Then he asks Aldana for the unsub's file and goes out to the garden with his glass and a tablet, to lazily sit down by the pool.

Only then he calls Hotch.

He's driving, and gives his phone to Gillian while he follows the GPS directions. She takes the call on speakers and holds the phone between them.

"Hotch, guess you and Reg are spending the night watching the unsub's house."

"The CDC don't want us in," Gillian replies. "But if she sets foot out her door, we'll have her ass."

"Any more cases?" Hotch asks.

"No, but the MDs agree that we should expect them tomorrow morning."

"Did you see the unsub's file?"

Rossi browses the tablet in no hurry. "Her name is Sarah Murray, 45. Her only son Karl started to show violent mood shifts when he was 6, back in 2010. She diagnosed the BVD, then she quit her job and moved to Tampa, where she devoted to take care of Karl while she worked on a cure in a lab in her own house."

"But she didn't find the cure," Gillian says.

"No, and Karl died of a fatal encephalitis when he was 10, last year."

"She must've used this year to obtain this new string of the virus," Hotch says.

"I think so. Hotch, she's not going to like the news, about the authorities removing the goods from the stores."

"You think she will lash out."

"And move to her end game."

Gillian frowns. "And what d'you think she'll do?"

"Infect as many people as she can before going down…"

Hotch and Gillian trade a look. Rossi sounds awfully right.

From the inn, Rossi sighs and says: "Have fun in your night watch." And hangs up.

He looks up at the 101. There's actually nothing more to do right now, so the team decides to call it a day.

Tanya removes her glasses with a tired sigh, accepts the beer Aldana is hanging her and takes a long sip.

Hank goes out to the garden and shows Rossi a set of poker chips. Rossi nods smiling and not a minute later he has Hank, Fred and Kurt sitting with him at the table by the pool.

A while later Aldana and Tanya come out as well, and Aldana takes a swim while the girl sits at the end of the pool, her feet in the water, having her beer with her eyes up on the sky.


	25. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 5-8

The minutes crawl slowly by in the SUV parked outside Sarah Murray's house. Now they're here, they can do nothing but wait, and both of them slide into a state of educated patience, learned through years of experience.

The only problem with this state of vigilant patience is that it allows your mind to go for a walk. It stays in autopilot, waiting for a movement at the front door or anywhere around the house, but while at it, it takes a lazy stroll far and away from the case.

For Hotch and Gillian, the far and away is the boundaries of the SUV's cabin, where both of them become slowly very aware of themselves sitting there together, with maybe nothing to do for the next hours but to be sitting there together.

Both of them keep their eyes on the house, where there are no lights on but the one at the porch, casting a soft glow on the lawn.

While silence pools between them, Hotch goes over the ups and uppers of the day, because there's been no down since Cruz walked into the conference room in the morning. And he slowly takes account of something he's never had to deal with before.

Since he's first met Gillian, everything about her, or them, was always basically about thoughts and emotions. But today he's faced for the first time —and go profile _that_, that he _wants_ her. Today's been the very first time he's had a very conscious desire of kissing her, of getting _physical _with her.

He still remembers those two nights in San Diego, specially the first one, but in time he rationalized it as tension, caused by Gillian's constant tries to get rid of his supervision, and a certain degree of alpha male possessive tendency from him.

He heard her calling that detective and going out to meet him, and he didn't like knowing she was having sex with him. Because ever since Woods, and that long night trapped in the blasted building, he's developed this protective/possessive thing —feeling, about her. That's why picturing Gillian with another man felt so wrong, that his mind erased this other man and pictured himself with her instead. Because no other man should be with her, because she's his protégée. And hey, he may not be Morgan or Rossi, but he's no monk either, so it was very expectable that those mental pictures would trigger some kind of natural physical reaction.

Even that other night, at his apartment, right after Beth broke up with him, what he said —actually blurted in all the wrong ways, had nothing to do with _wanting_ her. It was the result of intellectually realizing that she is such a good fit for him, and that the emotional bond between them only makes her better. Because they both care about each other, and understand each other even about things nobody else would, like how their professional choices affect their personal lives. He was not inviting her to his bed: he was acknowledging that they're a good match, keeping in mind that whether they like it or not, they both have some sort of feelings for each other.

Then Boston happened, that nightmare of chasing Foyet's copycats. And he had to face the love underlying everything Gillian was doing, even against his so unfairly pissed off will. This was no caring for him, this was plain and blunt love. And he also faced that it was mutual. It didn't come as much of a surprise to him. It was finally making sense of all these feelings and thoughts put together. She loves him. And he loves her. Period.

But when he was able to clearly see it, he had already been so mean and despicable to her, that he himself had denied any room for them to come clean about their feelings and take together the natural next step of doing something about it. Like thinking about a way to be together considering the distance Boston/DC and their jobs.

He still feels a chill every time he thinks of how much he's hurt her back then. How blind and selfish he was. And how mad she was at him—no wonder. The way she spoke about her feelings almost like an accusation, expecting him to take offense, get mad at her again, and leave. How she said she loves him as a desperate last resource to get a break from all he put her through.

And only now, in the shadows and the silence pooling in the SUV, while she stays so quiet and still that he can hardly hear her breathing, for the first time since that rainy night, Hotch glances a couple of steps past his guilt to actually wonder about her reaction.

Why would she wield her feelings for him like that, seeking only to be left alone, if she knew that he too has feelings for her? Is it possible that Gillian doesn't know? That such a sharp, brilliant woman missed the signs, all over right before her eyes?

Then his mind of wheels and cogs clicks another step. He's completely relying on his notion of how much he's supposed to know her. But only this morning, after the briefing with her team, and all along this day, he's found out a good deal of things his structured mind hasn't taken really account of about her until now. So maybe now his high concept of her is clouding his judgment.

Because Gillian can be brilliant, and funny and sharp and even hot —as he now can admit. But one of the first things he's learned about her is her issue dealing with emotions. He knows she invests a good deal of her energy trying to control them, hide them and even fighting them.

And as for himself, well, he's not exactly the hugger of the year. Which takes him to rewind all of this tape in his mind to try to honestly track down what exact demonstrations of his feelings he's really showed her.

"Talk to me…" Gillian whispers then, rescuing him from his own mind.


	26. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 6-8

They've been in silence for a whole hour now, and that's how long Gillian managed to keep her mind in real autopilot. She's allowed herself to accept his cologne telling her he's so, so close, and she's kicked herself into a quiet comfort about it. She likes having him so close —ask her dreams about _watching TV_ together. So he's so close now, and he's been a complete prince charming ever since he got on the jet. And she's actually not only happy about all of that. She's happy mostly about all of that coming to take over the label of "last memory of Hotch" in her mind, kicking out Boston.

But she's just realized that she's turned and half curled in her seat, facing him, and her eyes are lingering in every line of his features instead of the unsub's doorstep, and her lips are pursing in a very idiotic little smile.

So it's time to get nasty in order to kick back to place so much unrequited and inconvenient stupid tenderness.

Hotch was just going through Woods' case and that night trapped together, so he asks, keeping his voice neutral but not cold, and nailing his eyes to the house across the street:

"You want me to keep you distracted?"

Yes, from you, please. "No, that's only for broken legs and smashed ribs."

He just nods. He's just remembered why he was going through cold cases, and realizes this might be a good chance to see if his suspicions are correct.

"Why did you come?" she asks, in the plain honest way she uses when she expects plain honest answers. "The logic options were Reid and Morgan."

He knows that, but he anyway asks: "Why logic?"

"Reid's brains, Morgan more… carefree ways, matching more my team's dynamics…"

"And…"

"And because being my team's case, I could boss them around even when they outrank me."

Like always, both of them are recalling how easy it is for them to actually talk about things. And feeling a mild surprise, both at it and at having forgotten about it.

Hotch turns to look at her.

"But you can't boss me around…"

"Did I?"

"No."

Gillian smiles at him —there you go. Then she shrugs, as they both look out again.

"You know? It's hard for me to make the calls when you're around, because I'm always expecting you to do it. Whether to obey…." Her voice turns mockingly serious, "…or to make one of my rebellious statements."

Hotch scoffs at the literal quote, and considers that yes, both of them are used to him being always in charge.

"I'm here only consulting, Gillian."

"I know, but why you?"

Gillian turns to Hotch, waiting for his answer. He keeps his eyes out on the house, knowing he needs to be careful not to push Gillian into porcupine-mode.

"I'm not here because of what happened in Boston, if that's what you're thinking." —I'm here because of what _didn't_ happen in Boston.

"I know. I would take offense if you were here because of that."

_Of course you would_, Hotch thinks. He nods. She nods. But Hotch knows she's still waiting for some kind of answer, so he plainly says:

"I don't know, Gillian. Cruz said you needed help, so I just grabbed my go-bag and came."

Gillian frowns. What the hell does that mean? That's what Morgan or Rossi would say, not him. They're not _friends_.

"Dad Hotch running again to the rescue of his rebellious child?"

He turns to her, slightly scowling as he quickly replies: "I never saw you that way."

Gillian scoffs turning to look out, and only now Hotch realizes what he's just said.

"We're not having that conversation."

She says it like teasing but she means it. Bravo, Hotchner, you got her in _full_ porcupine mode.

"No. This isn't the time, nor the place." —but we're having it, you can bet on it.

"And it won't be until past Doom's Day," she clarifies.

Fine, time to change strategy. So Hotch takes his turn to scoff facing her smirk.

"You're afraid…?" —Daredevil Gillian? C'mon, take the bait.

But she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head with a little smile —not working. Hotch nods smiling.

"Fine. But we're having it as soon as we finish this case."

"See? That's you bossing me around, _sir_."

"Well, looks like it's the only way with you, Gillian, and it shouldn't."

"That gambit ain't working either."

"I don't do gambits. I don't need them."

"Yeah, sure you don't."

Hotch gives up with a soft chuckle that forces Gillian to look out, in order to hide how she's just stupidly mesmerized at it —and him.


	27. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 7-8

Before blurting something stupid beyond repair, she yawns. Right now she doesn't give a damn if he thinks she's not in shape to keep the watch all night through. She can tell when she needs to pull back to her corner and this is it.

"Why don't you get a drowse?" he politely offers. "There's no need to be both awake all night to keep an eye on the house."

Partnership canon states that the rudest thing you can do is falling asleep on your night watch partner. But Gillian needs to keep a grip on herself, and it's been such a stressing day in so many ways. So she nods with an apologetic smirk. She leans to rest her back against the angle of her seat and the door, curls up her legs a little more, slips both hands between her legs and closes her eyes.

Hotch turns to look out again, because he's too tempted to lean to kiss her goodnight. He smiles, as he hears her breathing deeper and slower into slumber. And he likes it, having her there, sleeping by his side.

A couple of hours later he hears her moving. She's sound asleep, and she's sinking her head between her shoulders and pressing her arms against her sides. She's cold. Turning the heating on will make him drowsy, so he takes out his suit coat and covers her with it.

While he's doing it, his eyes unwillingly slip down, getting again that glimpse of the blue lace beneath her blouse. Hotch softly tucks her in with a little smile. No rush to see the whole piece. Not until it's followed by Wednesday breakfast.

Yet he feels the slight tingling in her fingertips, wishing they could slide oh so smoothly down her neck, and line out her collar bone, and then further down along her pale skin, to meet that lace and cover it with his hand.

And the feeling turns out to be not awkward or embarrassing, but actually funny for him, because it's been so long since he last fantasized about a woman. As a matter of fact, since the good years with Haley.

Gillian relaxes under the slight weight of his suit coat, and lifts a little her face to sink her nose against the fabric. Automatically her sleep is flooded with his smell, and the deep black nothing in her tired mind is filled by him.

In her dreams, she wakes up a few hours before dawn to find Hotch awake, still reading the files he's brought to bed. As soon as she stirs by his side, he moves his arm to make room for her against him and rounds her shoulders, not getting distracted from his reading. So she sticks to his side, her nose against his chest, and before falling asleep again, she murmurs: "Get some rest, Hotch…"

But she mutters it for real, and Hotch turns to look at her frowning. He sees she's sort of cuddling under his suit coat, sound asleep, and he smiles. If his ego is not tricking him big and ugly, she's dreaming of him, and her words suggest that in her dreams, they're just about to have breakfast together —and he didn't get any sleep yet.

He would really like to take her in his arms now, and let her sleep there, against his chest, keeping her close. And he wonders if it wouldn't be just easier. Letting her wake up like that, and save themselves what he can foresee will be at least a couple of difficult conversations, before they can really get to an understanding. Simply hold her tight and let the words rest.

He turns to look out at the house once more, and allows his hand to move from his own thigh to her knee, showing out from under his coat. He stays very still, just feeling this simple contact, and sighs. He doesn't know why, but he feels a deep calm.

For the rest of the night his hand rests there, as his thumb absentmindedly brushes her knee, and his thoughts lazily take account of Jack's upcoming soccer match, and the request for a new server that Garcia asked him to file along with her, and the seminar he's been invited to give at a naval base next month.


	28. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Three 8-8

Gillian wakes up in a jolt, hardly giving Hotch time to remove his hand from her knee.

"What time is it?" she asks, frowning.

"Early, she's still inside," Hotch calmly answers, sunglasses on gazing out.

She rubs her eyes feeling utterly awkward. She was dreaming of sleeping _with_ Hotch and wakes up from sleeping _by_ Hotch. So damn odd.

The day is breaking, and when she reaches for her bag to fish her sunglasses, she finds his suit coat on her lap. Oh, so this is why his cologne was feeling so much closer than expected. She holds it up to smooth it out, softly pats a crease in the sleeve and reaches behind Hotch's seat for the hanger.

Hotch manages it to keep his eyes on the house, his elbow on the rolled-down window the perfect excuse to casually rest two fingers on his lips. Because Gillian is doing it all in such a casual way that anybody would think she hangs his suit coat in his car every single morning. After Wednesday breakfast. After telling him to get some rest in the middle of the night.

He feels his lips curling against his fingers. He's so never letting her go.

Then he hears her clearing her throat as she dials her phone. When he glances at her, he sees she's fishing her bag almost sticking her head into it, the phone on speakers and in fragile balance on her knees.

"Morning, sunshine," Aldana says.

Hotch glances at the clock on the board. He never thought the punks-on-a-picnic TPU agents would be up and ready so early, but all of them sound very awake.

"Is the CDC already here?" Gillian grunts.

"They're landing at 7 am, Reg, and it's 6.30," Hank reminds her.

She finally finds her sunglasses and nails them to her face, still grunting.

"Tell them to catch up here, you're up. And I can hear Kurt chewing, so you guys drop your breakfast and bring your asses over right now."

"Don't worry, we're on our way," Fred says, with his placid tone.

She hangs up grunting: "I'd kill for a coffee."

Hotch starts the engine, amused at her morning mood. And he takes mental note: coffee before speaking to her in the morning. Unless, of course, he provides some sort of substitute for the caffeine. And he thinks he can do that.


	29. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 1-9

Fred, wearing a dark green T and jeans cut below his knees, finds Hotch ambushed behind some trees, wearing his vest over her shirt in the morning humid heat —because procedure states it for this kind of operations, his tie still perfectly fastened on his shirt, buttoned all the way up.

He drops his bag on the ground and starts to calmly assemble his M40. If Hotch's and Gillian's speculations are right, Sarah will show up in a while. The carer already confirmed that she comes every morning before 8 am, to bring wildflowers to her son's grave —the boy liked wildflowers, Sarah's told the carer once.

"Where?" Fred asks, and Hotch points ahead, some fifty yards away.

Fred finds a low branch laid out specially for him and plants his M40 on it. Then he focus his scope, spots the correct grave and takes a look around. Gillian is across the lane running near the grave, resting her shoulder against a tree, sipping at a huge coffee. She looks like she's standing before another grave.

Right then, Rossi calls on the radio: he, Hank and Aldana are in position at Sarah's house, with CDC agents geared for biohazard.

Hotch looks back at the lane coming from the street and spots Sarah strolling closer with a fresh bouquet of wildflowers. He says to Rossi: "Go, she's here." Then he stands by Fred, hand to the holster in his waist.

Gillian goes in no hurry up to the closest bin, drops her coffee, and slowly approaches Sarah from behind. The woman is kneeling before her son's grave to place the flowers in the vase.

Hotch watches Gillian sinking her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her badge in her belt, opposite to her gun, and feels the hint of the usual cold burn in her chest. He breathes deep. She's not in danger, and she can handle it.

Gillian stands two steps behind Sarah, hands in her pockets, and calmly, almost dully, says: "Say goodbye to Karl, Sarah, cos you ain't coming back here never again."

The woman looks back up at her in a jolt and stands sharply up.

"What? Who are you?"

"FBI," Gillian nods at the lane. "Let's go, don't make it harder."

Sarah frantically fishes her bag and produces a gun. Gillian doesn't even blink: they've found her permit, so she was expecting this.

Fred smirks at how Hotch stiffens by his side and says, his face to the scope: "Easy, agent Hotchner. Reg's got her, and I have Reg."

Hotch breathes in, the cold burning growing in her chest when Gillian keeps her hands in her pockets.

She looks at Sarah up and down, eyes full of cold contempt as she says, still in that almost dull way: "So you poisoned children in the name of your son. That's the mother of the year."

Sarah points her gun at Gillian's chest, who goes on: "Why did you do it? Why would you put somebody else's child through the hell Karl went through?"

"Because nobody cares!" Sarah squeals. "No budget for researching Borna, they said! We're on important things! How many cases of BVD? One in a trillion? Well, maybe now they consider it's worth the budget!"

"That won't bring Karl back."

"I know. I know! I KNOW!"

The woman's face is twisted in an insane grimace and she pulls the trigger.


	30. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 2-9

Nothing happens. Sarah's eyes widen.

Hotch exhales, cursing Gillian up to three generations.

Only now Gillian takes one hand out of her pockets. And with a swift move she snatches the gun from Sarah's shaky hand.

"It's locked, you idiot," she grunts. She unlocks it, points it at Sarah's head and cocks it. "Now raise your hands and turn slowly around."

Sarah does so, but when Gillian steps closer, she tries to spin around and jump on her.

Hotch tries a step and Fred stops him. Jeez, he's all edgy touchy feely about Reg.

Gillian slaps Sarah so hard that she throws the woman to the ground. Then she stands on top of Sarah, one foot at each of her sides, pointing the gun down at her.

"Hands behind your head," she snarls. She produces her cuffs and roughly tightens them around Sarah's wrists as she says: "Here's where I'm gonna treat you like the murderer you are. Right on the grave of the son you never deserved to love."

Sarah breaks in desperate tears as Gillian yanks her up to her feet. She finds Hotch coming but she ignores his concerned scowl, taking the woman to the SUV. There she leaves Sarah under Fred's custody and heads back in no hurry to Karl's grave.

Rossi calls Hotch on the radio to know how things went at the cemetery, and comments that the CDC's found a couple of tricky things in the house lab, but they're already taking care of everything.

Hotch makes sure that Fred is watching Sarah and goes to join Gillian at the grave. She's put back in place the fallen vase, and the flowers in order. Now she's again with her hands in her pockets, sunglasses on, looking down at the headstone that reads: "KARL MURRAY - 2003-2013 - BELOVED SON"

Hotch stands by her side and they linger there in silence for a long moment.

"It's such a terrifying thought, that something bad can happen to one's child…" she says then in a very low voice.

Hotch just nods. He knows plenty. Gillian sighs.

"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Connor… Dying right after him just out of grief, I guess… But what this woman did…"

"That's why you took so many risks for a simple arrest?"

Gillian smirks at his voice, like he's taken offense at what she did. And she utters the words to herself, full of affection: stupid bold caring man.

"Hey, it's not my first arrest. And I knew you and Fred had my back."

Hotch breathes deep. Better save themselves the argument. She shrugs.

"I don't know, maybe… I wanted to hit her, and kick her, and shoot her. So I guess I settled for contempt…," she mutters, and sighs again. "We should instruct the carer, so he gets wildflowers now and then…"

Hotch nods again and they stay in silence for another long moment, until Gillian says, oozing bitter irony: "You know? Wildflowers are my favorites…"

The death thought is right there: will somebody take wildflowers to my grave? But Hotch won't have her saying something like that. The lest standing before the grave of a child. They still have too much to go through together before even thinking about any of it.

"Let's go. The CDC is waiting for the cans I found in the unsub's car," he says, rather drily, knowing that will get her in motion.

And it does. With her eyes still on the marble headstone, she's already taking a step to the SUV.


	31. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 3-9

Back to the inn, Gillian appoints Hank to liaise between the CDC and the hospitals, leaves the last formalities in Aldana's and Rossi's hands —including having their jet ready to leave at 4 pm, and threatens Kurt and Tanya with a slow painful death if they don't keep the noise down while they pack their stuff —Fred is too calm to waste a threat on him.

Then she turns to Hotch with a little smile —I'm not bossing you around, and softly says: "I'm getting some rest."

Hotch nods, flashing back another little smile, actually dying to hear her say for real "get some rest, Hotch." But he knows she won't. Yet.

While Rossi and her team leave or set to their tasks, she hears Hotch's steps a dozen steps below, behind her on the stairs, and takes a deep breath. When he reaches the upstairs corridor, she's already out of sight, in her room.

If he goes and knocks on her door… Would this be the right moment? He checks his watch. It's 10 am, they have still 6 hours left there, and he really needs to get some sleep. He doesn't want to be exhausted and sleepy when he talks to her. So he heads to his room setting an alarm and fights his urge to crash on the bed until he's properly taken out his clothes to lay them on a chair.

It's the silence that wakes him up, two minutes before his alarm buzzes. He's closed the blinds but left the windows open, to renew the air in the room, and not a rumor gets to his ears.

He lies for a moment in bed, absorbing the warm stillness.

Gillian must be out with Rossi and her team, he realizes, flustered. If so, it means it's not the right moment to talk to her yet. Else she wouldn't fled like this.

Then he hears the soft splash from the back garden. Somebody is taking a swim. He gets slowly up, strolls the three steps to the window, looks out. And smiles.


	32. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 4-9

Gillian squeezes her hair and wears a light short dress to sit under the umbrella, book and cold beer on the table. She's tired, but let's Bon Jovi this —I'll sleep when I'm dead, because she's not able to close her eyes only five steps away from him. From Hotch's bed and Hotch sleeping. The bare picture makes her want to be bold enough to go knock on his door and sneak in, to cuddle against him while he sleeps after staying up all night —because she cowardly chickened in the middle of a night watch.

So she dusted off her swimming suit and went out for a swim and some peace of mind. As if. Even having his window in sight gets her on edge. So she sits turning her back to the inn and kicks her mind back to the marked page, to Shadow and his strange journey with Mr. Wednesday. Which takes her back to that last night in Boston, and herself yelling at a very taken aback Hotch "when you're around all I can think about is Wednesday breakfast" or something like that.

Jeez! There's no out of this…?

"Where's everybody?"

Gillian controls the jolt, swallows back her heart and glances over her shoulder. Hotch is coming out of the 101, now empty and deserted, with a cold bottle of water, every thread of wet dark hair in place, wearing light cotton pants and a black polo that make him look illegally hot for a man his age. So she takes a deep breath and speaks in the most casual way she can manage:

"I think Dave won Cuban cigars last night at poker, so the lads took him to town to pick them. They're doing some shopping and having lunch out. It's tradition, when we're on the field."

Hotch circles her and the table, leaving behind a trace of fresh smell of shower and cologne, and points at another chair by the table. She smirks up at him. Since when does he ask her if he can have a sit?

He sits down with a heartfelt sigh. He's still tired, but he's awake and ready.

"Did you get any sleep?" she softly asks, and he nods, smiling.

"You?"

No, I happen to be unable to sleep alone knowing you're around. "Yeah, some… The silence was too tempting to miss the chance…"

Gillian closes her book as the silence pools once more between them. Hotch is blankly staring at the sparks of sun in the water, fighting the fair battle to keep his eyes from openly praising Gillian's legs and looking for a way to start the conversation.

Then she chuckles, softly shaking her head. "C'mon, bring it on," she grunts, against every cell of her will.

Hotch conceals his surprise when she opens the game like that. He turns to look at her, slightly frowning, and bluntly asks: "What are you so afraid of, about me?"


	33. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 5-9

Gillian breathes in. Okay, there won't be beating around the bushes here. Yet she still tries to stall.

"The Gillian smart answer or the honest one?"

He doesn't answer, but tilts his head, waiting. She removes her sunglasses, because if she's going to be stupidly bold and honest, she's going to do so looking him in the eye. And she knows he will appreciate it. She speaks in a low, thoughtful way that Hotch's only heard from her yesterday on the jet.

"It took me many hard years to be in control of my life, you know? Reach a point where I wasn't someone else's pet. King's child, Shaunessy's green-shot, Cook's rebel lieutenant, whatever. And one good day I had made it: I was leading the TPU… a dream come true… But then Woods happened, and I called Morgan, and you guys came over…"

Her lips purse in a somehow sad little smile, her eyes moving over the table, her mind recalling those memories.

"I'd already seen you working. Back in 1998, when the Reaper first appeared… —Gosh, we were both so young back then… And then again in 2009, when Shaunessy died and Foyet started killing again… I knew you are the best, and that's why I asked Morgan to help us out. Because I knew you'd nail the bastard…"

Hotch slowly nods, captured by the notion of not remembering her at all from those times, yet she seems to have such a clear memory of him. And how she's just said that —I knew you are the best, so plain and convinced, just stating a fact…

Gillian glances at him and her eyes turn to the garden. "But I had never worked in direct contact with you. And there you were, and you were not only the best, you were just so worth respecting, and following, and admiring…," she sighs. "And the little control I had over my life just went out the window…"

Hotch keeps himself from rushing, fighting back all the things he wants to answer to her words, and says: "I just saw you, with your hands in your pockets, facing a maniac murderer pointing a gun to your chest. You didn't even flinch… and I scare you…?"

Gillian shrugs. She's avoiding eye contact, but only not to stray.

"Yeah… I'm afraid of the stupid way I can't help looking up at you… and of our ten thousand differences…"

She brings up a feet to the chair, her knee to her chest, and Hotch can see it's instinctive. They're reaching deeper waters and she's feeling the need to get defensive. But she keeps going:

"I'm afraid of myself when I'm with you, because you… change me…," she meets his eyes and Hotch notices the wet spark in hers. He crosses his hands not to reach out to her. "When you're with me I… feel bolder… I dare to do things I thought I'd never…"

She trails off and Hotch brings it down to facts, to allow her a little relief from the huge emotional burden behind her words.

"You're talking about quitting the force. Quitting on your father…"

"Yes, for example."

"Do you regret doing it?"

"No!" quick, sure, final. "It's one of the best things I've ever done, along with giving birth to Connor and divorcing his father…," she looks away from him smirking. "Two of the three best things in my life are permanent separations… Profile that."

"Then what's wrong about what you feel for me?"

Back to emotions and her voice is again weighted by their burden, making her sound frail and stubborn at the same time.

"I already told you: change, giving up control. I just don't deal well with any of it, in case you didn't notice."

No, he didn't. He's only known her changing and handing over any control to him. And all of a sudden he realizes that's exactly what she's talking about.

Gillian is fighting hard to open up and be honest with him about her emotions, such an issue for her, but right now she looks pretty much like a prisoner cornered in an interrogation room.


	34. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 6-9

Hotch tries a little smile, when all he really wants to do, yet again, is taking her in his arms and holding her tight to his chest.

"Remember what you said about breakfasts?" he asks, very softly.

She narrows her eyes fixed on the water, and smirks as she grunts: "Oh, you really enjoy embarrassing me, don't you."

He shakes his head smiling wider. "No, I didn't mean to. I was about to say that I always remember that breakfast back at my place, with my son, and Reid and Henry…"

"Yeah, it was nice…"

His voice is warmer now. "And I also remember you the night before, ready to shoot me to protect my son from whoever came near the door…"

"Yeah, I sort of overreacted…"

"Not at all. Back then I wasn't able to really notice, but later I realized and I did appreciate it." —one more thing that makes you so right for me.

"Well, back then you were a little messed up to notice anything."

Careful now, Hotchner, we're doing just fine. Don't screw up.

"I remember that night I asked you to transfer to DC and-."

"You didn't ask. You just stated I wouldn't."

He nods smiling. Because she's right, and because she's a step closer to her usual self and away from her fear to speak about emotions.

"Ok, I did. And you said no."

"That night you were feeling the worst piece of shit on earth. You were not seeking any comfort cos you love going hard on yourself."

A little humor? "Well, I would've appreciated a little indulgence from you…"

"No, you wouldn't."

Three words.

In a heartbeat, Hotch registers all they really mean. She's taken offense at the suggestion of him seeking her _indulgence_ —in Gillian's mind Hotch would never do something like that. And she thought he was actually inviting her to his bed. And the most surprising thing of it all: she thinks he did it just because he was down and she just happened to be there… She's never even considered that he may like her? Is it possible that she has no idea about his feelings for her? Can he be so uptight closed and can she be so blind?

"Is that why you said no?" he quickly asks, not correcting her misunderstanding.

"I told you why back then: I can't."

"Because changes and control…"

Gillian looks up straight into his eyes, with a little ironic smirk to state something so stupid and obvious: "Because I cannot even think about saying your first name without my knees trembling" —or why do you think I keep calling you "agent Hotchner"?

Hotch frowns, lost in his puzzle: "Yet you're saying all of this…"

"I'm really counting on you to take offense. Maybe suspend me again?"

He takes a moment to digest it. She's doing exactly the same she did back in Boston: wielding her feelings for him as a last defensive resource. She's not lying about counting on him to take offense at her loving him, she really means it… The notion clouds him so much that he seriously says, head-on:

"Gillian, you _have_ to know that I don't just love you back… right?"

No, she doesn't. It's right there in her stunning blue eyes, where he can have a glimpse of panic stirring. But before he can say anything else, her phone rings. She looks away relieved and takes the call on speakers.

"Al…"

"Hey, Reg, you and agent Hotchner better start clearing up the table, cos we'll be there in thirty."

"Go to hell," she grunts, and disconnects.

Hotch knows he cannot let the silence grow thicker, and he carefully says:

"Gillian, I do wanna be with you… I thought you knew…"

But it's too late. She's scowling straight at the pool, bracing her leg to her chest, and she shakes her head, her panic disguised as stubbornness.

"I can't."

"Why…?"

Hotch can easily tell how she's geared all up, to fight back both fear and emotions. She picks her book and stands slowly up, glancing at him with a tight smile.

"I guess I still need to be the girl back in the saloon, watching her cowboy save the day and ride away into the sunset…"

He looks up at her when she slowly walks away, taking his last chance to say:

"I'm ready when you are, Gillian. I'll be waiting."

"You shouldn't," she gently replies, and her smile is sad again.

He looks away from her sad smile grimacing, not sparing her any bitterness.

"I little late for that."

Gillian goes on to the 101 and pauses halfway. She forces herself to call him that:

"Hotch…"

He looks up at her right away, matching her tone: "Gillian…"

"You never call me by my name, either…"

He gifts her with a warm ironic smile, knowing she's going to hate him for this:

"I'm saving it for breakfast in DC."

She scoffs —nice played, then goes on into the inn.


	35. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 7-9

Gillian locks her door with shaky hand, gets quickly rid of her dress and swimming suit and hurries into the shower. And there, under the rain, she busts in tears, pressing a hand to her mouth because her own groans scare her.

And she doesn't know why, or what, but she's feeling like her heart is about to break and shatter in a thousand pieces. It hurts like hell. And she shivers in the warm rain, feeling the ruthless claw of fear ripping her apart inside, and the cold freezing her chest and her belly.

She thought it would be some mature, calm conversation in which Hotch would try to help her rationalize her feelings. And they would agree some sort of friendzone, considering she's so close to his team and their ways are bound to keep coming across each other at the bureau. What she refused to do back in Boston.

She accepted the need of a conversation because she knew it was necessary to clear the air between them, and because in the end maybe he wasn't wrong about it, and he could actually help her to rationalize it.

But everything's gone… she doesn't even have the word for it, because it didn't even go the wrong way. She just doesn't know how it went, or where.

She knows Hotch enough to know he was not teasing, the lest mocking her. He would never make anybody's feelings into a joke. Then what _the hell_…?

A few hours ago she was happy that she'd managed it not to piss him off for a whole day…

That was her mental scenario, the same it's been since day one.

And then… How comes…? So, so, so out of the blue…

She knows he cares for her —he cares about everybody, he's the stupid bold caring man. And it's partly due to the fact that he understands things about her that nobody else sees. But other than that…

Well, yeah, he's always appreciated her skills at work, he knows how to turn her into an effective tool. That's one of the things she likes most about working with him: how he gets the best of her. But other than that…

Leaving aside their shared addiction to chasing down bad guys, she's almost the opposite of anything he stands for!

He's never even _liked_ her!

How can he say he _loves_ her…?


	36. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 8-9

She's ran out of hot water, and the steps and voices out in the corridor say the team is back. She kicks herself out of the shower and into clean clothes. It's hardly 2 pm, and she said they were leaving at 4.

To hell with it. They're leaving right frigging now. Else why the hell is she the boss.

She calls Aldana and tells her to warn the others they're leaving in twenty, then she puts to fight some order into her bag.

She's feeling tempted to peek out her window, see if Hotch is still there. She doesn't want them to part again in a bad way. She wants to see him smile one last time.

Oh, but it's so damned hard, to muster the guts to face him right now.

She may be Reg Daredevil Gillian, but when it comes to SSA Aaron Hotchner, she's a stupid piece of jelly.

Well, bad luck in black rock, baby. You will have to do it somehow.

Rossi is dying to get Hotch alone, but he knows how to hold his peace.

When they leave the inn, hugging Greta and back to their best picnic spirit, Rossi notices that Gillian falls half a step behind as they go to the SUVs, breathes in and heads to the one where Hotch is getting in behind the wheel. So he quickly takes her place where she's expected, behind the wheel with Aldana and Tanya. That earns him whistles and scoffs from the others, and all in all he distracts the team's attention from the other two and it slips by.

Hotch gears in and drives into the street not even glancing at Gillian, at a complete loss as what to expect from her right now. He can tell she's past upset, plain shaken to the bones because of what he's told her, and the last thing he wants is to make it worse. Plus he's actually very surprised that she's gotten in the SUV with him, since he's thought she would seek shelter with Rossi and her team, not willing to expose herself to be alone with him again so soon.

Gillian has carefully chosen her words and the tone she's about to use. And she knows Hotch won't push it further. Right now she's just trying to find her voice.

"Yesterday Dave asked me if I was taking the profiling courses…," she finally says, in a slow, gentle way.

"And you said _never_," he nods, eyes fixed straight ahead behind sunglasses, also in a low, gentle way, and asks, because that's what she's expecting him to do: "Why?"

She smiles, knowing he's just asked it to help her to keep going.

"Because a girl likes knowing she can call her cowboy over to save the day."

Hotch nods again, smiling now. He's grateful they don't find any red traffic light, because if he gets a gap to shift his attention from the road completely to her, he will kiss her. And that's the last thing she needs from him right now.

But he glances at her. She's still wearing that mild, warm smile. And he sees her hand loosely resting on the seat on his side. He doesn't pause to consider. They're already pausing too much to consider too many.

He just grabs the wheel with his left hand, eyes again fixed on the street, and lowers her right hand. He can tell that, even when she too keeps her eyes straight ahead, she's registering his every move. And she doesn't move her hand.

So he very gently covers her hand with his. She smiles slightly wider, breathing in, and softly turns her hand beneath his, and her fingers curl around his, now rounding her palm. He clearly feels her chill at his touch, as she closes her eyes for an instant.

So he softly presses her hand again, sending himself a memo for later on, when he gets home, to try to understand how such a simple gesture can mean so much for both of them.

They don't say a single word, nor they trade a single glance in the rest of the way to the airport, but their hands stay together. Hotch's thumb softly brushes her skin, and just like last night, having her by his side, and that simple contact, makes him feel again that deep calm inside of him.


	37. Gillian Saga VI Wildflower Act Four 9-9

On the jet, while they wait for it to be ready and take off, the team is determined to completely demystify Hotch, and make him sit with them to play poker. And there are no games on the PS nor any other distraction: the whole flight goes by with Hotch playing cards with Rossi and the punks-on-a-picnic.

Gillian sits back with Aldana and Tanya to watch them play, though her eyes seldom look away from him, enjoying to see him smile and brag and win and lose in the best of moods. And even threatening Tanya with a sanction when the girl takes a picture of him laughing. Now and then she brushes her own hand, feeling again that delicious warm tingling she refuses to call butterflies in her belly.

And she knows it's going to be up the hill from now on, dealing and coming to terms with this thing, that feels like a huge iron safe falling on her head out of nowhere, best cartoon style. Because it's no less than her whole life out the window they're talking about. And she really hopes she'll find the strength and the courage to be up to it. But at least she has to try.

Fred ends up winning, because just like Reid, there's no beating him at cards, and when they land in DC, the farewell cheers go not only to Rossi but also to Hotch.

He stands to grab his go-bag waiting for her to do something, maybe walk them to the steps, but she doesn't. She just meets his eyes and smiles. So Hotch waves at the TPU, smiles at her for the last time, and follows Rossi to the steps and off the jet.

As soon as they leave, even before the jet rolls back to the runaway, Aldana turns to Gillian with a serious warning look.

"You. Spit it out. Now."

"No way, too many X for your ears," she brags. "And I'm just wasted. So wake me up when we get home."

She goes to sit alone near the cockpit and curls up there laying on her side. And falls asleep right after taking off. When they wake her up in Boston, she realizes she didn't dream of Hotch as she expected, and decides to run for the Chicken of the Year Award, because there's no way she won't win.

While Hotch drives in the DC sunset, lost in his thoughts, Rossi wears his silk white gloves and carefully comments:

"I'm glad you two worked it out."

Hotch just nods. Rossi knows he's not going to make it any easier, so he asks:

"Did you also happen to come out clean about how you feel about each other?"

Hotch just nods. Rossi waits, but he won't elaborate.

"So…?"

Hotch slightly shakes his head.

Ok, Rossi didn't see that coming, so he doesn't ask further. A couple of minutes later Hotch breaks the silence, still lost in his thoughts.

"All the things we see… The cruelty, the insanity… All the risks we push ourselves into… We never hesitate."

"It's the job, Hotch. It's what we choose to do."

Hotch stays silent a beat longer, then he goes on:

"We face the most devious criminals, yet we feel afraid to face something that can be good for us…"

So that's what happened, Rossi understands. Hotch's just found out that he's the only thing on earth that can make Gillian panic.

"Maybe our own happiness takes more courage than other people's death…" he says.

Hotch shrugs, always looking ahead. Rossi gives him another minute.

"You know she will come around," he says then.

"Eventually… Hopefully…" Hotch replies, absentminded, yet realistic.

Rossi just nods, arching his eyebrows.


End file.
